Chapter 10
The uniforms Monica had once worn at Minerva were mostly dark colors, such as dark green and navy, but the uniforms at Serendia Academy were the exact opposite. They were bright overall, with glamorous decorations worked in gold and silver thread.
The girls' uniform was an elegant dress that reached all the way to the ankles. Most notably, the dress code required both boys and girls to wear gloves.
The noble children at Minerva had worn gloves as well, but it had not been required by the dress code.
Serendia Academy was a school for nobles. As such, its students were always expected to maintain the grooming and deportment befitting high society.
...But Monica was in no state to care about any of that. Honestly, the fact that she was still standing and walking without fainting was nothing short of a miracle.
Her hands inside the unfamiliar white gloves were already drenched in cold sweat.
"This is Monica Norton, our transfer student."
Monica stood before the teacher's dais as she was introduced to the class, feeling like a criminal made to stand in the dock.
Every classmate's gaze was focused on Monica alone. Ah, if she had been a new student, at least she would not have been the only one attracting everyone's attention.
"Say hello."
Prompted by the teacher, Monica's throat finally began to spasm. It was unbearable enough simply to be exposed before everyone, and now she had to greet them as well!
(I have to say something...)
Lewis had told her that all she had to do was say her name, add a brief "I look forward to getting along with you," and bow.
But even that much was an ordeal of unimaginable proportions for Monica.
As Monica stood there in silence with her head bowed, her classmates' gazes subtly changed. Irritation at her failure to begin her greeting, contempt for the obviously nervous Monica—those looks pricked at her from all sides. Monica found it frightening.
Monica opened her mouth to speak, but in the end, she only opened and closed it soundlessly before falling silent.
"...That's enough. Sit down. Your seat is at the very back on the corridor side."
The elderly male teacher let out an exasperated sigh and motioned for Monica to take her seat.
Unable even to answer, Monica made her way to her desk on trembling legs. Her classmates watched her faltering steps with cold eyes.
Before long, the lesson began, but not a single word from the teacher reached Monica's mind.
＊ ＊ ＊
"Hey, you."
Even during the break, Monica remained sitting motionless in her chair when a voice came from right beside her.
She could not even raise her head, wondering whether the girl was speaking to her and what she would do if it turned out to be a case of mistaken identity. Then someone tapped her shoulder twice.
"Hey, I'm talking to you, you know. The transfer student."
Monica's shoulders jerked, and she timidly lifted her head.
The girl looking down at Monica was a flaxen-haired young lady. She had fair skin, large eyes, and a somewhat spirited air about her. Her hair was arranged in elaborate braids, and gold earrings dangled from her ears.
"I'm Lana Collet."
The girl who had introduced herself as Lana looked Monica up and down from the crown of her head to the tips of her shoes, then put her hands on her hips.
"Hey, why do you wear your hair in pigtails? No one at this school wears their hair like that. You look like some country girl."
Just as Lana had said, Monica had parted her light-brown hair into two sections, loosely braided them, and let them hang down.
Lewis had taught her several hairstyles suitable for a noble young lady, but they were so complicated that she had been unable to remember how to do them.
The young ladies who brought maids into the dormitory would have their maids style their hair for them, but naturally, Monica had no maid.
"I-I... I don't know... how to do it any other... way..."
At that one sentence, the gazes of those around Monica changed to ones that seemed to say, "Just as I thought."
With that remark, Monica had let it slip that she did not have a maid. Anyone who did not bring a maid to the dormitory was either desperately poor or someone at the very bottom of the social ladder, with no title to their name.
"Where were you raised?"
Lana's question left Monica at a loss for words. She had been born and raised in a town relatively close to the capital, but now she had to pretend to be connected to the House of Count Kelbeck.
"...R-R-Riennack."
When Monica named one of the towns in the count's domain, Lana's large eyes opened wide. "My!"
"That's the big town along the border, isn't it? Rare fabrics from the neighboring country come in through there, don't they? Hey, what patterns are popular in Riennack right now? What styles of dresses are in fashion? What sort of scarves are people wearing?"
Lana's barrage of questions left Monica completely at a loss.
Monica was not from Riennack in the first place, and even if she had lived there, she would not have known a thing about the latest fashions.
"I-I, I... I don't really know about that sort of thing... I'm sorry..."
When Monica mumbled her apology, Lana pursed her lips in displeasure.
"Hey, why aren't you wearing any makeup? Surely you should at least have face powder, lipstick, and eyebrow pencil? Here, look at this lipstick color. It's the latest from a cosmetics shop in the capital."
Then Lana proceeded to find fault with Monica's clothes one thing after another.
She went on about how gloves with embroidered edges were cute, how it was crazy not to wear even a single accessory, and how old-fashioned Monica's shoes were.
All Monica could do was say in a trembling voice, "I don't really understand" and "I'm sorry." It was simply true that she understood nothing of what Lana was saying.
Lana's hairstyle was elaborate, and a beautiful hair ornament was tucked into it. Her gloves had frills, and the ribbon at her collar was decorated with ornate embroidery. Even though they wore the same uniform, the two girls gave entirely different impressions.
As Monica stood there at a loss, the girls around her raised fans to their mouths and began whispering.
"There she goes again. The nouveau riche baron's daughter is showing off her money to some country bumpkin."
"Nobody else will even give her the time of day, so she's picking on a country bumpkin like that."
"She's so desperate, just because she bought her title with money."
No matter how quietly they spoke, they were loud enough for Monica to hear. Naturally, Lana could hear them too.
Lana's slender eyebrows twitched, but eventually she swept her flaxen hair back and snorted.
"That's enough. Talking to such a tacky country bumpkin is boring."
"...I'm sorry."
Being called boring was something Monica was used to hearing.
Monica was painfully aware that she was a boring person.
She could never get excited over the same topics as everyone else, and she did not understand a single thing about the latest fashions. The only things she was interested in were numbers and magic.
If saying something would only make someone feel bad, Monica thought it would be better to be treated as though she were not there at all.
That was why Monica could do nothing but keep her head bowed and sit still without meeting anyone's eyes.
Even now, as she sat hunched over and stiff as a stone, Lana suddenly reached out and grabbed one of Monica's braids.
Monica drew in a frightened little gasp, and Lana said sharply, "Hold still, will you?"
Lana skillfully gathered Monica's braids into some kind of arrangement and secured them with pins. There was no mirror here, so Monica had no idea what had become of her hair.
But Lana nodded in satisfaction. "That'll do."
"See? It's easy enough! You'd better learn to do it yourself!"
With that, Lana strode back to her seat in long, purposeful strides.
Monica timidly reached up and touched her head with her fingertips.
The part she touched was secured with pins, and a soft ribbon swayed there.